Page 1 of Wings of Death

CHAPTER ONE

“Zarla Quinn!” The Guardian Master’s voice echoes throughout the arena.

My focus snaps toward him as he gestures with a wave of his hand for me to step onto the fighting mat. I glance around the arena, the grandest part of the Guardian Angel Academy, with its impossibly high stone ceilings, covered in intricate details of angels in battle. My father taught me about this battle. It depicts the great angel war when the three Kingdoms were forged.

A cool sweat breaks out across my forehead, and I wipe it with the back of my hand. Other students are sparring on fighting mats around the arena, but there’s a group gathering around ours, eager to watch my fight. Everyone wants to see me prove myself, to show I am not just The King’s Daughter, but a guardian in my own right.

And to watch me fail. Again.

My friend Demetros gently squeezes my shoulder as I step through my peers onto the mat. Astelle, my sister, is waiting for me, her pale blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, ready to fight. The stench of sweat and earthy cedar hits my nose, and I inhale, preparing myself for what’s to come.

The rubber mat indents beneath my feet as I move across it, the surface worn in patches from countless previous fights. I imagine my mother training here, on this very mat. Maybe she’s watching over me now. At least, I hope she is. My arm bands slip, and I tug them back up as I meet Astelle’s pale-blue eyes.

Dread creeps into the pit of my stomach. It’s a familiar feeling I have carried with me since I first learned we would spar with other angels in preparation for becoming a guardian. And even more so with Astelle. She has always hated me, and I don’t trust her.

A smirk curls her lips as she takes up her fighter’s stance. I have to give it to her; she looks the part. Her deep-brown guardian leathers hug her curves, and she’s wearing knee-high boots, a leather corset, and leather wristbands, all in the same leather. My outfit matches hers, my dark-blonde wavy hair tied high in a ponytail.

We’re forbidden to use weapons or our powers for sparring. The latter isn’t an issue for me. I haven’t yet harnessed mine. Astelle was one of the first angels at the academy to harness hers, and she made sure everyone knew.

I catch a glimpse of Amaros in my periphery, my father’s first guard, as he steps into the arena, and his eyes find mine. He nods, silently telling me I can do this.

“Fight!” the Master calls.

Astelle charges, catching me off guard, and lands a kick to my thigh before back flipping. I fall onto my ass, and quickly right myself. Her lips twitch, pleased at getting the first hit in. I take a deep breath and regain my composure.

Breathe, Zarla. Just breathe.

I anticipate her next move as she charges once more. This time I dodge to the side, crouching low as I kick my left leg out and spin around on my right foot, taking her down. She rollsacross the mat and flips back onto her feet. Hatred blazes in her eyes as her fist connects with my lip.

Losing my balance, I stumble back, and a familiar metallic taste forms in my mouth. I wipe my lip on the back of my hand, seeing red. The Master watches me intently, assessing me. This is my fourth sparring fight. I lost the last three. I can’t lose another.

Astelle takes her time, stalking toward me as a Zelon does its prey. We circle the perimeter of the mat, assessing one another, searching for an in. She’s limping slightly on her right leg. Maybe my kick did some damage. I take the opportunity and run at her, knowing she won’t expect what I have planned.

She dodges to the left, which I anticipate. I spin around, slamming my fist into her jaw, and land a kick to her right calf. She lets out a muffled groan and stumbles back, licking the blood from her bottom lip. She charges at me, her hands outstretched as her powers surge out in red waves, shooting me across the mat and outside the boundary line.

I land hard on my back, and my chest burns as I desperately try to suck in a breath of air. My brain rattles from a ringing in my ear, and I shake my head, trying to clear it.

I roll onto all fours, coughing, and stare in disbelief as the Master takes Astelle’s wrist and holds it up in the air, declaring her the winner.

You’ve got to be kidding.

She shoots me a tight-lipped smile before the other soon-to-be guardians flock around to praise her as she leaves the mat. How in the heck did she win? Surely the Master saw her cheat. Hell, you’d have to be blind to miss it. I stand on unsteady feet as the Master approaches me.

“That wasn’t fair. She cheated,” I say through strained breaths.

He raises his brows and clasps his hands behind his back. “That she did, but she still won. These sparring matches are designed to prepare you for your time on Earth as a guardian angel. Anything can happen down there. And although I do not condone cheating, it was a lesson that must be learnt. One must be prepared for anything, even a dirty fight.” He takes a few steps away, then turns back. “I look forward to seeing your next sparring match.”

Before I can respond, he walks away, and Demetros and Lacinda rush over to me.

“You had that fight in the bag,” he states, patting me on the back.

“Totally. She’s a cheating bitch,” Lacinda adds. “We all saw it.”

I snatch up my bag from the edge of the mat. “Apparently I need to be prepared for dirty fights.”

“That’s bullshit,” Demetros says from close behind me. “The rules are clear. We can’t use our powers—” Demetros grits his teeth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s okay.” I hold my hand up.

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